You make promises after you've already planned to break them, I know, but your tongue is as sweet as God's forbidden fruit.

I love you... I love you, so why can't I have you?

You kiss me and I am yours... Until I wake up, of course. I need you in my life.

Everyone knows that you are golden, but only I know that it is simply painted on.

You are hiding the weak, rusted boy you truly are with these false shades of gold.

So get out of my dreams and get out of my life, because I do not want you... I may need you, but I do not want you.

Take your beloved *** of golden paint with you when you leave and promise me that you won't ever return.

Please don't look back at me over your shoulder... No, never look back.

I hate you... I hate you, but I do not want to upset you with my tears over your departure.

Don't look so lost, golden boy. I'm just sad that I'm losing the one thing that I genuinely need. I'll get over it.

I hate you... I hate you for being so false, yet so irresistible.

You are not a man, golden boy. You are nothing but an imposter...

So tell me why **I love you.

As her filthy eyes explore my broken body, they painfully infect my fresh wounds and scars... "What have you done to yourself?" I look down, expecting to see my body, but I can no longer see it. I can no longer see her. I fall to my knees, drowning in self-shame. I no longer pity myself - I only hate, I only hate.

"Who are you, honestly?" I can't tell if she's asking me or if I am questioning myself. I am not ashamed to admit that I don't know who I am anymore. I haven't known for a long time and I am desperate for answers...

I NEED ANSWERS.

"Tell me the truth." I would if I could, but the poisonous problem is that I am a stranger to myself. I pay close attention to what I say and what I do, all day every day, and yet I still haven't learned a single thing about myself.

"Tell me, tell me now." I can't tell you the truth if I can't even tell myself... I can not face it, not today. I am not ready, not today.

"I need answers." Is that not what I've been saying all along? Aren't you listening to me? Why aren't you listening to me?

But that's just it... No one ever listens... Not until it's too late.

"What have you done to yourself?" I look down, expecting to see my body, but I can no longer see it... I can no longer see anything. It's too late, it's too late. And do you know what? I still do not pity myself - I only hate, I only hate when it's too late...
And it's too late for me,
**today.

As fallen leaves crackle and crunch in the gentle autumn breeze, they are unafraid to whisper their darkest secrets to the world... Do they get a response? Of course not, for people are as self-involved as they always have been.

Will anyone rise to rescue us from our own selfish minds? I think not. It takes more than just one person to stand up to the world.

If I stood, would you stand with me? Would you stay by my side in sickness and in health? A promise is all I need to rise above all else.

If you were to commit to me, autumn's whispers would be revealed as the definite loudest... If you were to commit to me, whispers would turn to voices and voices would turn to shouts... otherwise known as our opinions.

We would be free to speak our minds without fear of any judgement at hand... We would be free to say or do anything we pleased. Say the word and I'm free... Free to be yours. Free to enjoy the autumn,
and the rest of my life,
**with you.

Falling, falling, until I hit the ground. This is not new. I remember a time in which I used to let the little things go. But when you have cheeks so soft and lips so red... What do you expect me to  do? I hit the ground and I know that it is rock. Rock bottom. I consider calling out to you, but there would be no point. No one ever hears me. Or do they simply choose not to listen? Now the rock is, what, melting? I do not know, but I am drowning. Drowning my sorrows. I can not swim today. I am weak. So I ask you again... What do you expect me to do? Because, in this moment, I can not function. I can not breathe. I can not bare to be alone for any longer. I want you. I want power. I want to be able to swim right back up to the top. I want a voice that can be heard and a face that can be seen, minus the obvious, burning-red, embarrassment... As I slip away, I think of you. I think of what you might think of me. Can you hear the quiet, quiet voice? Can you see the weakness? Now I have almost disappeared completely... I wonder if anyone will notice before I am gone. **Doubtful.